Good News Travels Fast
by angelically-devilish
Summary: RemusHermione - Hermione has great news to impart, but finds some stumbling blocks along the way. Enter her knight in shining armour...or rather, her werewolf. BIRTHDAY FIC FOR GrandeVanilleSkimLatte


_**Author's Note: **In the words of Jackie-Boy...I'M BAAAA-AACK!_

_So, this is a VERY belated birthday present for one of my BEST FRIENDS in the whole entire world (literally) whose company I've missed both virtually and literally. So...AMY...this is to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY! and to apologize for being a shitty communicator recently._

_I LOVE YOU!_

**_P.S. - _**_As with a lot of my recent stuff, this is un-beta'd except for what I have done myself. I'm impetuous and I like putting things up immediately when I finish them. So apologies if it's not perfect but all I can say to that is DEAL WITH IT. :-)_

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><p><strong>Good News Travels Fast<strong>

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><p>The sun was shining brightly on the narrow, cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley as Hermione Granger, worldly war hero and the brains of the illustrious Golden Trio, skipped happily down the steps outside the offices of the <em>Daily Prophet<em>. Luxuriating for a moment in the unseasonably warm spring weather, the bushy-haired brunette allowed herself a wide, self-satisfied smile as she gripped her copy of the wizarding world's premiere newspaper and headed down the main thoroughfare toward Weasleys' Wizard's Wheezes.

Two years of hard, exhaustive work had culminated in that sunny day. Two years of sleepless nights, ink-stained fingers, and more than a few tear-filled tantrums had brought with it, finally, that moment as she paused, drinking it all in. Turning the paper to the Arts section for what must have been the tenth time that morning, she still had trouble believing it was all happening.

There, in black and white, sat a truly marvellous review of her first book, _A Different Kind of Battle_. 700 glorious words of praise for what she hoped was the first of many books involving a rugged dragon tamer hero and his ethereal but undeniably brilliant blonde lover. Hermione was pleased and proud that her hard work was being recognized so positively and she couldn't wait to share her jubilation with what she assumed would be her equally excited friends.

As she opened the garish orange door of the twins' shop, however, she was greeted by an uncharacteristically sullen Fred Weasley.

"It's bloody unbelievable, that's what it is," the redhead was saying to his similarly vexed twin, "I still can't get over the stupidity of it."

"Good morning, boys," Hermione said brightly, approaching the counter with a smile, "Wonderful day."

"What's so wonderful about it?" George snapped, causing the witch to jump slightly.

"What's bothering you two?" she asked, some of the wind leaving her sails at this less-than-welcoming greeting.

"What's bothering…Granger, don't you read the newspaper?" Fred asked.

"Of course. As a matter of fact…"

"If you've read it, then you should know what's bothering us," George interrupted, "I swear to Merlin, this is the most ungrateful, unpatriotic…"

"Verity," Hermione said, pausing the blonde witch as she was passing by with an arm full of extendable ears, "What are they on about?"

The younger woman heaved a long-suffering sigh.

"You know Cormac MacLaggen and Romilda Vane are engaged, right?"

"Of course. But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, Romilda's ex-boyfriend Zacharias Smith has published what's supposed to be a very scandalous tell-all about his relationship with her," she added, as if the addendum further explained the twins' foul mood.

"So?" Hermione asked, bewildered by the seemingly incongruous nature of the explanation to the men's behaviour.

"So? So the silly bint's gone into hiding and for reasons beyond understanding, MacLaggen's dropped out of the next month of matches to "support her," George seethed.

"Utter rubbish," Fred muttered mutinously.

Hermione frowned, "I still don't…"

"He's left the _team_ for a _bird_, Granger," Fred said slowly, a condescending, exasperated tone to his voice that Hermione thought was completely unwarranted given the circumstances.

"He's handicapped them, see? Taken their knees out from under them," George added.

"Backstabbing little…"

"Wait. All this anger is just about Quidditch?" she asked in disbelief.

Unfortunately, this seemed the wrong response, as Verity gave her a "now look what you've done" look before hurrying off. The twins turned a mottled shade of purple.

"_Just about Quidditch_?" George roared and the few customers who had been browsing the store turned in curiosity.

"Do wise up, Granger," Fred sniffed, "This is about more than Quidditch. This is about national pride. About patriotism!"

"And about MacLaggen thinking with his cock instead of his…"

"Really, boys, it's just a silly game…"

"Just a silly…oh, you don't understand!" George all but shouted before turning dramatically on his heel and exiting to the back room.

Fred glared at her.

"Well done, Granger," he snapped before following his twin.

Verity, who had disposed of her load, gave the frustrated witch a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"They're just upset because they're worried about England's chances at the World Cup," she explained. "Cormac's the starting keeper."

"I see," Hermione said, feeling dejected, "Well…tell them I'm very sorry."

"I will. Is there anything I can help you with? You seemed very excited about something when you came in."

Hermione sighed.

"No, I…I just wanted to tell them about a review for my book that was in today's _Prophet_. It was very…flattering."

Verity gave her an empathetic smile.

"I'll let them know when they've…er…calmed down a bit. I'm sure they'll be thrilled for you."

"Thanks, Verity. I'll be going now." And shooting the blonde a small smile, Hermione walked out of the store.

Feeling infinitely less elated than she had been ten minutes prior, Hermione nevertheless let her spirits brighten as she entered the Leaky Cauldron, knowing that at least her housemates in Grimmauld Place would be happy for her. Stepping into the floo, she called out for the Grimmauld Place kitchen, wondering which of her friends would congratulate her first.

"How can you say that Ronald, I mean really," the enraged voice of Ginny Weasley sounded shrilly as Hermione stepped out of the fireplace and into what seemed to be a battlefield of scorched wood and broken plates between the two youngest Weasleys.

"Look, he may be everyone's Wonder Boy, but Cormac MacLaggen isn't the only keeper in the league. Liam O'Malley can fly circles around that pompous…"

"Firstly, Ron, MacLaggen _averages_ 500 saves per game. O'Malley can't hold a Quaffle if it was Spell-o-taped to his hands. The only reason he's even on the reserve team is because his cousin runs the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and just because he plays for your bloody Cannons doesn't mean…"

"At least O'Malley wouldn't run off and let his team down just because some floozy he was dating was throwing a tantrum."

"No woman in her right mind would date O'Malley so I don't think we'd ever have to worry about that with him."

"So you'll agree that MacLaggen shouldn't have left the team just for that…"

"I admit that the timing isn't ideal but they are engaged, Ron. It's called loyalty."

"No, loyalty is sticking by your teammates and your country when you're heading into a tough month of World Cup qualifying matches!"

"Well, speaking as one of his teammates, I stand behind him and so does the rest of the team. Or did you think he didn't consult us?"

"But…"

"Ron, don't you think I'd leave in a heartbeat if Harry was in trouble? Oliver left for a few weeks last year when Angelina was giving birth, so how is that different…"

Hermione let the door of the kitchen swing shut behind her, nostrils flaring as she stomped up the stairs. The quarrelling siblings hadn't even noticed her presence as she manoeuvred past them to door and so, thoroughly demoralized, Hermione decided to head to the drawing room for a glass of firewhisky and to give herself the much-deserved congratulatory attention she clearly wasn't going to get from her friends.

Entering the room, however, she found Sirius and Harry in deep discussion of an infuriatingly familiar topic.

"I'm telling you, Harry, if he doesn't play next month against Moldova, England has no chance at getting to the World Cup."

"Ginny said the team's behind him. It's a blow, but I don't think it's something they won't be able to recover from."

"All I have to say is that bloody bird is more trouble than she's worth. I've got a hundred galleons riding on our upcoming match against France, and if he causes us to lose to the ruddy French…"

"_Really_?" Hermione exploded, only marginally mollified by the fact that both men jumped nearly three feet when she spoke, "Are we _really_ talking about this? Fucking Quidditch and Romilda bloody Vane?"

Harry blinked.

"Blimey, 'Mione," he said, "What's gotten into you?"

"Does _anyone_ in this country read anything _but_ the Sports page?" she seethed.

Sirius scoffed, sitting back in his usual pose of casual, aristocratic arrogance.

"'Course not, kitten," he said, "Nothing else worth reading."

"Argh!" the witch cried, turning on her heel and stalking out.

Rejected, angry, and starting to feel incredibly insecure, Hermione trudged up the stairs to the one place she knew no one would bother her about Quidditch, celebrity relationships, or any other type of pop culture nonsense that had effectively killed her good mood. The Black family library, such as it was, seemed to repel most of her friends and would therefore be blissfully free of any interruptions. This, coupled with Sirius's mildly obsessive compulsion for housing alcohol in every common room of the house, guaranteed Hermione's ability to drown her disappointments in utter peace.

Pushing open the door, she felt her heart plummet as she found her sanctuary already occupied by the last inhabitant of Grimmauld Place she would have to encounter. Remus Lupin, resident werewolf and mild-mannered professor, had been the singular star of the young witch's sordid sexual fantasies for months. Her sudden lack of enthusiasm in speaking with him – quite counter to the normal palpitations she experienced when in his presence – were therefore not from her dislike of him, but rather the concern that he, like their fellow housemates, would show her similar disregard for her triumph. If he showed her the same contempt she had befallen at the hands of her friends, Hermione was certain she'd fall apart then and there.

Partially hidden from view by the very same periodical that carried the objects of both her pride and her ire, Remus was so engrossed that Hermione considered leaving him undisturbed. Fate, however, deemed retreat impossible, as the handsome older man seemed to sense her company and looked up curiously from the newspaper.

"Good morning, Remus," she said softly, holding her breath for his response while simultaneously trying not to think about how adorably bookish he looked behind the pair of reading glasses he had taken to wearing recently.

Remus gave her a broad smile, folding the paper and placing it delicately on the coffee table in front of him. Hermione's heart skipped a beat when she noticed he was turned to the Arts section.

"And here's the woman of the hour," he said, "I've read your book review. Had to wrestle the _Prophet_ out of Sirius's hands in order to read it, but congratulations!"

She blinked.

"You…you've read it?" she asked, almost in disbelief after the reactions she had received from the others in her life.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"I just…with this whole Cormac MacLaggen – Romilda Vane scandal, no one's seemed to notice my…well, my little slice of notoriety."

He gave her a small smile.

"They're the lesser for it," he said, his voice taking on a low, assuring tone, "Though I am sorry they're all being idiots. This review is so highly complimentary that I wonder if Flourish and Blots will be able to keep your book in stock for much longer."

She couldn't help but scoff.

"Considering I can't even get my own friends to read a review of my book, I can't imagine anyone wanting to spend the time reading the actual thing."

Remus smiled slightly, picking up a book from the side table.

"I do," he said simply, giving her a supportive smile, "As I said, it was such I highly complimentary review that I had to start reading it immediately. And I wasn't the only one on line this morning to buy it."

"You weren't?" she breathed.

He laughed.

"So little faith in your own power! Hermione, regardless of the tabloid fodder on the front page, you have done something wonderful and you are to be commended. Well done."

Hermione didn't know whether it was his open sincerity or the fact that he had said the exact right ting at the exact right time, but it took less than four steps for the young witch to launch herself into his arms and kiss him fully and passionately on the mouth.

Pulling back, she found him staring at her, eyes wide and lips slightly pursed. She blushed a deep crimson.

"I…I'm sorry…I just…I should go…" she stuttered, shifting so she could remove herself from his lap.

It only took her a moment to realize that his hands were on her hips, and they weren't allowing her to move.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said softly, holding her still as she started to wriggle, desperately embarrassed by her bold behaviour.

She froze as she felt something definitively hard against her thigh.

Watching him closely, Hermione's breath hitched as she realized his face was flushed, his eyes were closed and he was taking deep breaths to control himself. Two sides of her brain were suddenly at odds. On the one hand, the insecure part of her told her that he was trying to control his anger; that her intrusion into his personal space was a breach of trust and he was going to rebuke her for it.

On the other hand, she liked to think that Remus was not the type of man to become sexually aroused when angry about something.

"Hermione," Remus finally said, looking up into her eyes with his own beautiful amber orbs, "I don't want you in any way to take this as a criticism of your past action, but may I be so blunt as to ask where the bloody hell that came from?"

She blushed again, unable to look him in the eye.

"I…er…I let myself…um…that is to say, I wasn't in control…"

She trailed off, looking up into his face. His eyes were searching hers, trying to comprehend her incoherence. In an odd way it emboldened her, and she took a deep breath.

"I've…I've wanted to do that for a very long time and…and I figured…well, I didn't really figure anything, it just sort of…it just sort of happened," she admitted, swallowing hard as she prayed his dismissal would be quick and as painless as humanly possible.

It was his turn to blink.

"How long, exactly, is "a very long time"?" he asked.

Her brow furrowed slightly.

"I…oh, I don't know…a year or so?"

He blinked again.

"So you're telling me," he said, a surprisingly matter-of-fact tone to his voice, "That we could have been snogging for the past year?"

She looked at him as if he had sprouted two additional heads.

"I…I'm sorry?" she asked, still uncomprehending the bizarre direction this situation was heading in.

"You bloody well should be," he mumbled, his hands moving gently up her hips to the curve of her waist as he leaned forward, "Lord knows I wish _I_ had done something about it sooner."

Hermione didn't have enough time to process his words as his lips touched hers once more, this time prepared for whatever she was ready to give him. Finding herself suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of him, the feel of him, and the knowledge that this was, in fact, _him_ and not a fantasy she had concocted in her own mind, she gave in and wound her arms around his neck.

He tasted of dark chocolate and she was sure he had been munching on some before she had come into the library. As she let her tongue battle his in a slow, seductive dance, she could feel every plane of his body against her own; the edges of his muscles moulding perfectly into her curves.

Lips nipping at each other, Hermione breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of freshly cut grass and worn book leather that was either him or the room but either way thoroughly intoxicating. His breath was hot against her neck as he made his way down toward her collarbone, his hands sliding beneath her shirt to caress the bare skin beneath.

She gasped, goosebumps forming beneath his touch and a lightening bolt striking through her body to settle at her core.

"I don't suppose we should stop," he said softly, his hands paused just below her bra.

She looked into his eyes, drowning in the warm depths of sparkling platinum.

"Why on earth would you suggest something so stupid?" she breathed.

A slow, wicked smile – a smile she had never really seen before but had somehow known existed – curved upward, immediately taking years off his face. Without a word, he flicked his fingers, and her bra came undone.

She gaped at him.

"How on earth…"

"Shh," he whispered, lips moving to meet hers as his hands removed her shirt and bra in one swoop. "I am a Marauder, after all."

Things progressed rather rapidly from that point.

Soon Hermione found herself naked and panting, her back against the faded leather sofa. Remus was hovering over her, his body long and lithe and beautiful.

Bringing a hand up to trace one of his silvery-white scars, Hermione looked up into his eyes and saw him watching her.

It was the single sexiest thing she had ever witnessed in her life.

"I can't believe we're doing this," she said.

"Truth be told, neither can I," he replied, settling his weight between her legs as he lowered himself to catch her lips. "But if I'm dreaming, don't you dare wake me up."

He kissed her, deep and probing, and Hermione sighed against him as she wrapped her legs around his hips. Lifting her body slightly, she groaned as he slowly slid within her.

"Now this," he whispered in her ear as he held himself still, "This is better than any dream I could conjure."

Whimpering quietly, Hermione rolled her body beneath him and he took the cue. Curving one arm around her body and bracing himself against the arm of the sofa with the other, Remus gave a hard, quick thrust in response.

She threw her head back, a moan escaping her throat as he started to move against her.

They fell easily into a rhythm, moving together as if they'd made love a thousand times before. Indeed, Hermione felt as if everything was suddenly making sense – as if everything beforehand hadn't been real. In between the quivers of pleasure and her constant reminders to breathe, Hermione praised herself for impetuously kissing this sexual titan in the first place.

"You feel so good," he growled in her ear, the depth of passion in his voice sending thrills through her body and pooling at the apex of her thighs. They were slicked with sweat, and their movements had them sliding along the leather, a gentle squeak reverberating within the quiet room.

"You feel…_incredible_…" she groaned, nails starting to dig into his shoulders as she felt the pressure build within her belly. Her toes started to tingle, the feeling of imminent explosion creeping up her legs and into the rest of her body.

She felt the air leave her entirely, and she dug her nails even deeper into his flesh with one hand, her other grabbing a fistful of hair at the back of his neck. Gasping, she let out a primal cry, her body wracked with volcanic heat and orgasmic, ecstatic energy.

Her teeth sank into his shoulder, and he cried out, a hand tangling into her hair and tugging as he groaned into her neck, his hips jerking hard within her as he, too, succumbed to the white hot pleasure that erupted between them.

They collapsed, panting, against the quickly cooling leather.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Remus groaned, lifting his head just enough to press his forehead to her, "You are bloody violent when you cum."

A slow smile spread across her face.

"What can I say? You bring out the primitive side of me," she replied.

He chuckled, groaning as he rolled sideways, wedging himself between the cold leather of the sofa back and her warm body, arm snaking around her naked flesh to make sure she didn't fall off.

"I don't think Sirius is going to be pleased with us christening his sofa," Remus said after a few moments of silence.

"I highly doubt we're the first," she replied.

She felt him shudder against her.

"That's a thought that's going to fester," he murmured, and she laughed.

"Serves him right, anyway. The way he treated me…you know what he said when I asked whether anyone read anything but the Sports section?" she asked, starting to feel the anger and hurt bubble again.

"He probably said something tactless and rude, if I know my friend," Remus replied, and she could feel his lips form a smile against the back of her neck.

"Yes he did. So serves him right," she said stoutly, her anger and hurt dissipating as quickly as it had appeared as she snuggled back into his arms.

"Well, look at it this way," he said, sitting up on his elbow and looking down at her, "If your friends hadn't treated you so badly, you wouldn't have come up here. And if you hadn't come up here, I wouldn't have been able to compliment you on your well-deserved success. And if I hadn't complimented you, you wouldn't have jumped upon me and ravished me so thoroughly."

She gave him a scandalized look.

"_Me_ ravish _you_?"

He grinned.

"Oh, alright. I wouldn't have been able to ravish _you_ quite so thoroughly and then where would we be?"

"Probably clothed," a voice – sounding eerily like one of the Weasley twins – said from the other side of the door, and the two jumped, leather squeaking as they searched frantically for clothes.

"No need to dress quite so quickly, you two lovebirds…we caught quite a lot already," the other twin added, and both Remus and Hermione turned bright pink.

"Not to say I'm not happy for you, 'Mione, but may I suggest locking the door next time? As well as a few silencing charms?" Ginny's voice, thoroughly amused, floated in.

"Really, Moony, I don't know what I could have possible done to offend you enough to desecrate my favourite sofa," Sirius continued.

"You two are paying for my bloody therapy!" Ron roared.

"What the hell are all of you doing huddled around the door?" Hermione shouted back, still burning with mortification as she pulled her clothes back on.

"Er…McGonagall came over to congratulate you, 'Mione," Harry said.

Both Remus and Hermione froze.

"Tell me Minerva is not standing outside that door," Remus said quietly.

"No, though it would've been a right laugh if she had been, wouldn't it?" a twin said, followed by a distinct 'oof!' which Hermione assumed to be Ginny's well-placed elbow into an unsuspecting stomach.

"She did abuse us thoroughly for neglecting you, though," Harry continued, "So we thought we'd come up to cheer you up."

"Looks like we were beaten to the punch, though, so to speak," Sirius teased.

"And if we'd known this would have been a possible outcome of talking to you, Granger, we wouldn't have been quite so thoughtless at the shop earlier today."

A louder 'oof!' followed by a harsh 'smack!' told Hermione that the twin who hadn't been on the receiving end of Ginny's first elbow had been treated to a similar fate, followed by a painful reminder.

Remus and Hermione looked at each other and in the absence of anything to say, they both started laughing.

"I suppose I've lost just a little bit of credibility in this whole palaver of a day, haven't I?" Hermione said, shaking her head as she readied herself for what awaited her on the other side of the door.

Remus chuckled as they stood, and slid his hand in hers.

"I would say that you've gained something just a little bit better, though," he replied, kissing her gently on the forehead.

"True. And maybe I'll be nice and use some of my book sales to buy Sirius a new sofa," she said.

"And my therapy!" Ron roared again.

They both chuckled and, taking deep breaths, headed out to greet their fate.

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><p><em>Thanks for reading!<em>

_Hope you liked it!_


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